Reaching In
by Rydia Asuka
Summary: Before coming to Ferelden, Zevran made a mistake that he regrets to this day. Now, he is forced to ask himself why he did it, and what he will do as the same situation starts pressing in on him once more. Will he run again, or will he learn to face his demons?


_If there's one thing that bothered me in Zev's story, it was that I felt the whole issue with him letting Taliesen kill Rinna was…a bit empty, for lack of a better word. I just feel like Zev's reasoning was, well, nonexistent, so I took the liberty of exploring it myself. I hope this is passable, and I apologise for the weird format. I like to explore new styles, and I took the liberty of doing that here. If it doesn't work out…well, I'll know not to use it again. Hahah._

_Now for a bit of background, this being a Dragon Age: Origins fic and all. The story takes place on the road between Denerim and Redcliffe, immediately after the Landsmeet. The Warden is a male city elf whose presence is more-or-less just to get Zev talking. This story is focussed on Zev, so don't worry about it getting to mushy or anything; I really tried to avoid that. _

…_not that there's anything wrong with mush._

_But I digress! In fact, I think I'm done, so just go read. I hope y'all enjoy, and feel free to comment. Advice and criticisms are both welcome! I can't get better without help. _

**Disclaimer: **Dragon Age: Origins and all affiliated characters and settings are property of BioWare. No copyright infringement is intended; no profit is being made.

**Reaching In**

"_Please…I love you!"_

Every muscle in Zevran's body tensed as he jolted awake, amber eyes snapping open to take in the dark interior of the tent. Forcing himself to relax, he focussed on breathing in and out deeply as reality pressed back in on his mind. It was just a dream, one he had not had in a while at that, but it had shaken him nonetheless.

The arms around his waist tightened, drawing the tent's other occupant into his back. With a wry chuckle, Zevran slid his fingers into the sleek hands resting on his abdomen. "Apologies, my Warden, did I wake you?"

"Mm," came the first, incoherent syllable as the other elf obviously fought off sleep, "'s fine."

Shifting in Fälin's grip, the blond rolled over so that he was facing his friend, their eyes meeting across the short distance between them. "No, it is not," he denied, using his free arm to push several strands of auburn hair out of the other's face. "You do not sleep well as it is."

His response was met with a sardonic snort as Fälin shifted to prop himself up on one arm. "Exactly. I'm always waking you up. You're entitled to one or two of your own."

"Well, I had best be careful, then. I believe my quota is about half-filled, now."

Fälin did laugh at that, the sound enough to bring a genuine smile to Zevran's lips. "Better choose the next one wisely, then."

Zevran quirked one eyebrow. "Do I not always, my dear Fay?"

"You? Plan? _Maybe_ during a rainstorm in Orzammar." They shared a chuckle at the absurd idea, and the ridiculous claim, before Fälin rolled onto his back, dragging the blond elf with him.

Shifting gladly, Zevran pressed into the other elf's body, his head resting against the redhead's shoulder. After a moment, he felt fingers picking through the tangles of his bedhead and let the sensation coax his eyes shut with a soft sigh. On the outside, at least, he could ignore the roiling deep in his gut that signified his anxiety. It had just been a dream, anyway, and maybe, just maybe, he would be able to get back to sleep like this.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

With a soft hitch of breath, Zevran's eyes snapped open once more. He could not see Fälin's face from where he lay, but he knew the other was watching him closely—and that Fay could feel the sudden, renewed tension in his body. The question was: What was he to say to that?

If there was one thing their illustrious leader was good at, it was reading his companions, a trait Zevran himself had fallen prey to on several occasions. Yet it was not as simple as that, either. Fälin never pushed anyone to talk, he simply touched the topic and then left it there, a permanent invitation. It was the sort of offer that ate at a guy, constantly gnawing at both one's conscious and, well…desire for companionship.

That was, after all, the reason he had told Fälin about Rinna in the first place.

Sucking in a deep breath through his nostrils, Zevran let it out slowly, shrugging as he did so. "There is little to tell that you do not yet know. My mind simply chose tonight to remind me of…how Rinna died, that is all."

There was no immediate response forthcoming—at least, not verbally, for the hand in his hair paused to brush his shoulder in a gentle squeeze—but he knew that that did not mean that Fälin was not listening. Quite the opposite, in fact: It meant Fay was thinking.

After what felt like an eternity, but was in reality probably less than a minute, the redhead muttered, "Not everything."

Brows furrowing, Zevran pushed himself up on one elbow, staring down at the dim figure before him. "And what, exactly, do you know about this story that I do not?" The words were tart and somewhat cold, his tone harsher than he meant it to be. It was hard not to be, though, when the subject of Rinna came up. He had told this man the story and held nothing back—what more could Fälin want from him?

"I'm…not sure, Zev. I sort of…well, I'm wondering if maybe you need to admit something to yourself."

"Insufferable man," the blond muttered, though much of the heat in his tone was already buried once more, hidden beneath his easygoing mask of affection. "Just say what you mean; I will not bite off your face."

He could not see it clearly, but he knew that he was being sent a wry look as Fälin sighed. "I'm just saying, Zev, that you aren't the sort to dwell on things, right? So why does this bother you so much?"

"What do you mean, bother me so much? It is done, over. It has no more h—"

"—But you regret it," Fälin interjected smoothly, one hand snaking up to press a finger over Zevran's lips. "Don't bother denying it; you admitted that much at the Gauntlet. So…just hear me out?"

After a long moment, Zevran finally nodded. In truth, he was growing a bit…curious. It was true, he _did_ regret Rinna's death, but he also wanted to just get over it. He was a Crow in mind, if not literally anymore, and such compassion was a weakness. Yet here he was, experiencing it again, and just as unsure what to do with it now as he had been then.

"I admit, Zev, I've given your story about Rinna…a bit of thought." The redhead sighed, suddenly seemingly reluctant to go on. "Maybe it was wrong of me, but there was—well, I mean." Fälin stopped once more, shaking his head, and Zevran found himself reaching out to run a hand over the other elf's cheek.

"You can say it, my Warden." In truth, there was a small spike of fear in the pit of Zevran's gut that told him he knew exactly what was going to be said—and that he did not want to hear it. He was right on both accounts.

"You said you were…attracted to Rinna, and that you hadn't felt like that about anyone before, right? Well, after you—I mean, after _we_…" Fälin did not have to finish his sentence, for the hand that rose to rub the earring piercing the tip of his left ear said it all. "You know… anyway. I got to wondering why…why you did it. I mean, I don't think you're going to stand by and let Taliesen cut my throat or anything—"

Zevran snorted; Taliesen was dead by Zevran's own hand and the both knew it.

"—but I still wondered. I couldn't figure it out, Zev…and then, well, now I have to wonder something else." Leaning, in, Fälin pressed their foreheads together, his pale, grey eyes all but freezing Zevran in place, even in the darkness. "Why, Zev? Why did you let him kill her?" The last words were all but whispered, but they still seemed to tear a hole in the blond's gut.

Drawing back a short distance, Zevran dropped his gaze, mind suddenly whirring with the question he had never quite had the courage to face before. Why _had_ he let Taliesen kill her? Why had he spit on her? Why? _Why_? He had no love to spare for the Crows, and that was plain and simple fact. For all he tried to make light of his life with them, the truth was that, having had a taste of real freedom, he resented them. Sure, it had not been as bad when he was living that life, but not enough for him to truly believe that…the Crows deserved that much loyalty. Fay had to know that, too.

He had said as much before, too. He was loyal, up until the point that someone expected him to die for failing. Well, what of Rinna? What had she really meant to him? Were the Crows more important to him than she had been? Truthfully, he did not think so.

Another question plagued at him suddenly, one that made his breath hitch slightly in his throat before he could relax it: Why had he even believed Taliesen? The answer was simple, so blindingly so that he physically flinched back as the answer sank in. It was the answer to both questions, and, he realised, a very strong truth about himself that he had never before wanted to face.

His lips parted then, the words coming out in a weak choke of admission as he murmured, "_I was afraid_."

* * *

I remember so clearly how proud I was. Having my bid accepted on the Ridal case was just going to further show them that I was the best Crow in Antiva—which, of course, made me the best Crow in Theras. Or so I thought.

The news just got better with the announcement that Taliesen was going to be joining me. He was an…old acquaintance, and there was no better partner to have along when running down a dangerous mark. We would pull this off easily, flawlessly, and my prestige would rise once we did. It was perfect.

When it was mentioned that we would be taking a younger, fresher recruit with us, however, I cursed my bad luck. If this other elf slowed us down, I vowed that I would slit his throat myself. What use was a lump of flesh that could not keep up? No, I would not have this mission sold out because of some wet behind the ears pup.

Little did I know that my initial misgivings were both very wrong, and almost macabrely ironic.

OoO

The first time I saw her, I can now freely admit that she took my breath away. Never before had I seen such a beautiful creature—yes, I know, it sounds cheesy, but it was the _truth_. From the first moment I laid eyes on her, I knew I wanted her.

I knew the feeling to be what it was, lust, plain and simple, but I found myself stumbling over how to approach it. In the end, I guess I never really did figure out how. I would eye her from afar, and sometimes I would even catch her eyeing me back. I never made any moves on her, though. I am still not certain why.

No, that is a lie. I did not understand it then, but I do now. I wanted it to be…different. I had always been used to taking my pleasures where I could find them, but there was something holding me back from doing so here.

It was not Rinna, that I am certain of, for she was never shy in expressing her own interest in me. In retrospect, I suspect it was blindingly obvious that we wanted each other—and, perhaps, there is a small part of me that wonders if Taliesen was not…jealous.

Before I jump ahead of myself, allow me to explain that he and I were lovers. It was nothing serious, simple pleasure with mutual goals of ambition. There was no love, but perhaps there was…a kinship that arose from our similar desires.

If I had a friend in the Crows, it was him.

Rinna, though…she had caught my eye, and Taliesen could not have been blind to it. Perhaps I am overanalysing, but there is a part of me that now asks if he was not possessive. He did not love me, I have no such allusions, but he did want me. I was gorgeous and successful; what was there not to want?

I could not see past my want for Rinna, though. Certainly I still toyed around with Taliesen, for sex is as much a part of the Crows as killing is.—a bitter irony, but it is the truth. My interest, however, was on a pretty elven maiden.

OoO

By the time I realised what was happening to me, I was already in neck-deep. I knew that it would only be a matter of time before one of us acted on our foolish, half-hidden glances, and there was a part of me that could not wait for that moment.

…and there was a part of me that, as I now realise, was terrified of what this meant.

I was a Crow, a member of the most merciless and dangerous organisation in Antiva—and perhaps the whole world—and we did not love. There was no room in me for caring and affection, at least not like that. It was not the way of the Crows. The lesson I had learned the hardest was that we are all in this life for ourselves, and that living meant remembering that at all times. There was no time and no place for affection and love. Love was a liability, and so I believed with all of my being—or so I told myself—that what I felt for her was simple lust. After a while, I really did begin to believe it.

OoO

It was night when Taliesen came to me. We were due to hit our mark later that night, and I thought that the grim expression on his face came from the news that one of our men had been spotted, or that Ridal had moved earlier than planned—anything but what he told me.

The news that Rinna had betrayed us hit me like a kick to the gut. I remember it so clearly, how my eyes widened and I dropped down onto the bed in our room, unable to process what I had been told. I sat there for probably a full minute, turning over every way it could be a lie, until Taliesen eventually came over to me. I remember how he leaned over me, his breath hot on my jaw and ear. I also remember his words.

"_Why do you think she came, Zev? A green recruit on a mission this big? No recruit in his or her right mind would want this. She was planning this from the start. How simple is it? Sell us out, grab the money for it, and run. We're not even in Antiva anymore; she could go anywhere. She planned it, Zev. Face it." _

I wanted to deny it, but as he went over the plan, pointed out all of the inconsistencies in what Ridal's guards were doing, it had…it had seemed to crystal clear. Of course she had betrayed us! Who else could it have been? Taliesen? Certainly not. Myself? Obviously not. We were partners, and so it had to be someone else.

Rinna.

OoO

Now I wonder: _Did_ Taliesen set it all up? Even the scapegoat? It would not have been beyond his power.

Or maybe I just wanted someone to blame.

OoO

I stood there, arms folded and gaze scornful as he cut her throat. The expression on her face as she stared up at me, begging me to save her—to _believe_ her—is still engraved in my mind. I doubt it will ever leave.

I believed—I truly _thought_ I believed—that she was a traitor. I hated her in that moment, telling myself that she was a disgrace for even _considering_ betraying the Crows. How could she? They were the most important thing in the world. That was what we had all had drilled into our heads for so long. I had to believe it. Love, affection, caring?—no, it was all wrong. The Crows were the way of life, and their rule was absolute.

_I had to believe it._ If I did not, then everything I had ever known would have crumpled around me like a collapsing house of cards.

OoO

It all came down to one truth: It was easier to get rid of her than it was to face her. I was scared of what she represented, and in the end my own cowardice took me out of it the first chance I got.

I will never forgive myself for that.

* * *

Fälin was silent for a long while after the words stopped tumbling out of the blond, the quiet pressing in on them almost like a physical force and driving the normally talkative elf almost mad as he waited for his friend's response. Finally starting to physically fidget, Zevran was about to say something else when his friend's smooth voice broke the silence, "Zev…"

Maker he hated that sympathetic tone. His partner usually avoided being too blatant with offering such sentiments, but it seemed that even Fälin was shaken this time. Gathering every ounce of his outer mask that he could muster, the blond laughed. "But it is all over, yes? There is little point in dwelling on what is done and gone."

"No, Zev. Our past is what shapes us." Zevran did not miss the city elf's slight wince at that, but he let it go. "We can't ignore it. I tried, and it almost got me and my family killed. I've learned the hard way not to let my mistakes go. We have to learn from them."

"Very well. I promise never to let Taliesen kill you."

Zevran found himself rewarded with a sharp flick to the temple, the annoyance on Fälin's face evident even in the dark. "As I was _trying_ to say: Yes, you made a mistake, but you won't make it again, will you? And…you've learned something else, right?" There was no missing the almost hopeful tenor in the redhead's tone at that.

After a long moment, Zevran simply nodded, unable to trust his mouth to words—at least, words that would not get him flicked again. He did understand what Fälin was getting at, though. He had learned something important that day, and not just that he was a coward. He had learned, however indirectly, that running was not the way to deal with things. He had also learned that there was more to life than what he was living—and that there was more to life than himself.

Letting out a shaky breath, Zevran dropped back down to their shared bedroll, his head landing lightly on the bare chest of his partner. Listening to the soft thump of Fälin's heartbeat, he finally murmured, "I will not run from you."

His words were greeted with a soft, affectionate chuckle. "I love you too, Zev."

"Oh, really? Tell me, which part is your favourite?"

"Guess," the auburn-haired elf muttered with the beginnings of genuine laughter slipping past his lips.

After the briefest of moments, Zevran's quiet chuckles joined Fälin's. The pain was still very real, but hearing his Warden laugh? Somehow, it seemed a little lighter.

* * *

_Omitted Scene (that I rather like but it just didn't fit)_:

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you're a coward."

Zevran leaned over Fälin at that, one platinum eyebrow quirked as he gazed down at the other elf. "Oh? And what brought on this sudden sentiment?"

"You."

The exasperation in Zevran's sigh had to be blindly obvious to the redhead. "Yes, I realise that."

"No really, Zev. If you…if you hadn't been afraid to die that day, I probably would have just killed you." Fay's breath hitched then, driving a quick stab into the assassin's gut with the sound. "Or maybe I never would have met you at all."

Zevran bit the inside of his lip as the unstated meaning in his partner's words hit him. Yes, if he had not been afraid to die, had he really not been afraid, he would have killed himself after Rinna. He had been too afraid, however, and so he lied to himself and told himself that he wanted a glorified death.

Yet, when it came down to it, he had begged for his life even then.

"I'm just glad you're here."

The blond's expression softened. "As am I, my dear Warden." And, he realised, that was the truth.


End file.
